


You Always Wanted Something More (From My Body)

by tisfan



Series: Truth is Who You Are [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Plug, Dom/sub, Dominance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Face-Fucking, Held Down, Hurt Bucky Barnes, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Tony Stark Has Issues, Vibrators, Working it Out, being outed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-16 06:05:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18685627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Tony rushes through things and Bucky gets hurt. Can Tony work through his issues of trusting his Dom. Or himself?





	You Always Wanted Something More (From My Body)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissionCritical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissionCritical/gifts).



> This is pretty much Hurt/comfort in the beginning and D/s switching at the end. Mostly for the smut enthusiasts.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I want to test a theory,” Tony said over the comms.

“Tony, will you please -- for once -- just stick to the plan?” Steve pleaded, but it was already too late for that. Tony was swooping up into the sky, one of the Doombots clenched in his hands. The thing was still struggling, so Tony hadn’t done anything to deactivate it yet, which meant he was getting way too far out of range of assistance with a live Doombot.

“I have a plan, Cap,” Tony said, cheerfully. “If it works-- it’ll be great.”

“If what works?”

“Don’t want to spoil the surprise,” Tony chirped. Which was Tony-speak for not sure this is going to work, so I don’t want to give you expectations. Or maybe it was Star Trek speak for I want you to think I’m a miracle worker.

In either case, Bucky tipped his head up, watching through his combat goggles, as Tony disappeared into a bright red speck against the sky.

“Dom-ass,” Clint muttered into his headset, meaning to be overheard. Bucky supposed he was lucky that not very many people knew the truth, because if they did, Steve would have already been demanding that Bucky get some damn control over his sub. As it was, Bucky could hear Steve’s teeth grinding, _wanting_ to make the call and knowing that he couldn’t.

“Tony, baby, what are you doing?” Bucky said, soft on a private line.

“Just hold down the fort for me, fifteen seconds.”

“Under the circumstances, I’m not sure we have fifteen seconds,” Bucky said.

“Well, you’ve already used half of them arguing with me,” Tony told him, pertly.

Tony was gasping for air, and Bucky wished to fuck that his sub wasn’t so damn argumentative. It was like an addiction for Tony, arguing. Even if someone was right -- maybe even especially when someone else was right. Tony was so afraid, sometimes, of the idea of making a mistake that he didn’t _listen_.

Bucky spared one more glance for his wayward boyfriend and leaped back into the fray. If he couldn’t help Tony, he could at least get some of these Doombots down before Tony got back.

Everything else faded in the rush of combat, breaking the metal and rending the plastic; disabling the battery packs, shooting out optics. The Doombots were tougher than usual, and they were never exactly easy. Doom appeared to be picking up the pace as far as production and standards went, but training against them, the Avengers got stronger too. It was a goddamn arms race is what it was.

He was running on adrenaline and Dom-high, from a successful scene with his sub. Tony was also running a high. Fuck, he needed to clear this shit out before Tony started dropping. LIke booze, or drugs, no one -- not subs, not Doms -- were of sound judgement when they were on that dopamine rush.

More Doombots.

Bucky dove into the center of them and erupted like a hail of bullets from ground zero. Robot bodies fell, pieces groped around--

\--”ucky, move!” Tony was yelling. “Get away, get out--”

There was only a moment of warning before the green lights on the front of the Doombots’ chestplates went red, and Bucky scrambled backward.

“Oh, shit--”

The world went white, full of killing light and a high pitched whining sound--

***

Bucky wasn’t moving.

He was laying on his back, limbs sprawled, head turned to one side. His beautiful brown hair was matted with blood and there was dust and rubble and possibly mechanical fluids from the Doombots, but also possibly more blood, leaking in a growing puddle underneath him.

“Bucky!”

Tony was on the ground, the remnant of the Doombot cast aside as he rushed to his Dom’s side.

The rest of the Doombots were either broken or deactivated, a pile of metal corpses that scattered out from the center of the explosion like dolls.

“Life signs are positive, sir,” JARVIS said, flashing up medical scans on the HUD. “Multiple contusions detected, but no life-threatening injuries.”

Thank Tesla for JARVIS, really. Still, seeing Bucky laying there so still and almost lifeless was painful, and Tony popped the faceplate, knelt be his side. “Honey? Bucky, come on, honey, you’re okay.”

Steve stormed up, all firm jaw and flashing eyes. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Tony didn’t look away from Bucky’s face, lightly brushing gauntleted fingers over his cheek. “They were getting near the populated areas,” Tony said. Bucky hitched in a shaking breath, coughed. His eyelids fluttered. “There you are, sweetheart.”

“That was careless and irresponsible,” Steve snapped. “You got someone hurt-- look at me, goddamnit!”

There was just a hint of Alpha command in Steve’s voice. Not enough to be really noticeable -- like roadrage. You couldn’t always tell it from normal New York bad driving. But Tony was already on edge, his hormones were already high. He didn’t want to look, didn’t want to give Steve the satisfaction, but--

“What?” Tony stood, because he couldn’t stand looking at Captain fucking America from a squatting position.

Bucky groaned, reached for him, and Tony couldn’t move. Locked into the battle of wills with Steve.

Tony tried to wrench himself free, setting his jaw. Steve wasn’t his goddamn Dom, he didn’t answer to Steve, he--

_If you’d just bonded, you wouldn’t be arguing about this now._

This was not the time for his pocket Jiminy Cricket to pipe up.

Tony shifted his gaze back to Bucky, who rocked back and forth a few times before getting to his knees. He coughed several times, hacking like he’d been rescued from a TB ward. Tony couldn’t seem to quite pull away from the Captain’s gaze, couldn’t--

“Fucking leave me alone!” Both hands planted in the middle of Steve’s chest, he pushed, letting JARVIS control thrust. Enough to get Steve to stagger back a step or two, just get some goddamn air, just to get free--

“Stark!” And that came out with more bite than bark, full of Dom resonance. Steve’s pheremones went crazy and Tony got way too much of a whiff. “Back down!”

It didn’t matter what he wanted. It didn’t matter how much he’d trained, or the “lessons” that Howard had given him in trying to resist. Tony’d gotten so much better at it, over the years, but he was exhausted, his hormones were running high, and he was being given an order.

Helpless, hating it, Tony went down, bending his head to Steve’s command.

In front of everyone.

***

Tony wasn’t aware of anything, except his burning need and his equally volcanic rage.

A thin line of ice cold steel slid right through his belly. _If you’d bonded with Bucky, this wouldn’t have happened._

If wishes were suits, the world would be legion, Tony thought, snarling at himself, at Steve, at his nature, at Steve’s hard-headed, bullying manner. Steve knew, he knew, he had to know, because Bucky knew, and because Steve knew Bucky. Even before the serum.

So--

Tony managed to raise his head. It was the hardest thing he’d ever, ever done, but he did it. He pushed back, he pushed at his nature, he pushed at everything that had made him into this miserable, weak thing to be used as a Dom pleased, and stared daggers at Steve.

He couldn’t do any more than that, knew that his legs wouldn’t support him if he tried to get up. “JARVIS--”

“Of course, sir, my apologies, sir.” The suit took over, and while Tony’s core ached from it, JARVIS took care of him, straightened him up. The faceplate slammed home and JARVIS ran the suit’s filters, dumping Steve’s powerful scent outside, getting it away from Tony. In a moment, he was breathing easily, standing on his own. He raised a gauntlet to Steve.

“Tony, Tony, I--” Steve was protested, and there was nothing in the Dom on his face. “Shit, I’m sorry--”

Tony repulsored Steve in the face.

Well, not quite, because it was Steve, and Iron Man needed Captain America, no matter that Tony would have preferred Steve on the far side of the moon. There was enough warning for Steve to get the shield up. The blast scraped him across the ground, and Tony was just petty enough to tip the beam at the very end, catching the rim of the shield and dumping Steve on his ass. Steve got up somewhat more gracefully than Tony had, and Tony knew what it looked like to the bystanders; that two dom-asses had a battle of wills and came out tied. Nothing new. Nothing noteworthy. Sometimes when tempers were high--

Tony was tempted to blast him again, just for good measure, just to show the world where he fucking stood.

“Tony, Steve, we don’t have time for this,” Natasha’s voice came over the coms, urgently. “James is hurt.”

Both Steve and Tony turned away from their standoff. “Get me an evac and med team here, like, yesterday,” Tony barked, using his rage to keep himself calm. “Rogers, take a walk.”

Steve looked like he planned to protest, then didn’t, giving Tony a stiff-necked bow -- acknowledging Tony’s place in the pecking order, which Steve had never done -- which meant even Steve knew how bad Steve had just fucked up.

“Do I want t know what the hell that was about?” Clint asked.

“It’s over, Hawkeye,” Natasha said. As a surgically altered baseline, Natasha didn’t have to deal with Doms or subs, unless she wanted to. Tony envied her. Sort of.

All the baggage that came with the alterations were pretty terrifying. Red Room science was way ahead of its time in fucking people up. A lot of the girls in the program had died, Natasha had told them once.

“Hey, honey,” Tony said, dropping to one knee at Bucky’s side. He dug Bucky’s hand out of the rubble. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit with a fucking building,” Bucky complained, not even opening his eyes.

“Med techs are on the way,” Tony promised him.

“Am I gonna hafta kill Steve after I get doped up?” Bucky wondered.

“No, honey, I got it handled. Completely Steve’s fault and he fucking knows it,” Tony said, keeping his voice pitched neutral. He did not want Bucky and Steve going at it; full Dom aggression combats were mostly frowned on by thinking people, which didn’t keep Doms from doing it sometimes. Doms not always being thinking people.

“‘M sorry,” Bucky told him. “You’re so good to me, and I let you down.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “No, no, this is my fault, it’s my fault you got hurt, I was too busy trying to show off. And Steve’s fault for being a little bitch. None of it’s your fault.”

“It’s okay, Tony. You don’t have to lie about it,” Bucky said. “If you’d been comfortable enough, if I’d done it right-- you’d be bonded.”

“No, no, don’t you do that, this is me and my terrible self-esteem,” Tony said, gripping Bucky’s hand even tighter. _Don’t you drop me now, please._ “ _Sir_.”

“You’re sweet,” Bucky told him, and the praise eased a lot of the sting, cooled a lot of the rage. Bucky squeezed, and then went limp as pain and his body’s healing factor finally wore through his defenses and he passed out.

The Med techs came with their trauma patches and their stretcher and loaded Bucky up, both literally and figuratively. The trauma patch kits were one of Dr. Cho’s inventions, a brilliant little bit of nanotech that went right to the damaged areas and jump-started repairs. Tony made a mental note to send her flowers. Again. Just, a truly ridiculous number of them.

“Well, that was close,” Natasha said, coming up beside him. She knew, Tony decided, glancing down at her.

“In more ways than one,” Tony agreed. He was shaking inside the suit, but JARVIS wouldn’t let him fall.

“Want me on public damage control?”

“Don’t kill anyone,” Tony told her. He wasn’t even sure if he was joking or not.

“You know me,” Natasha said. _Indeed._ He just waited a beat, looking at her. “No killing. Got it. Spoilsport. You’re going to need to go ahead and tell the team. I don’t think we can keep it on the downlow anymore.”

“How long have you known?”

“Your birthday party-- the one where you and Rhodey wrecked the room,” she said.

“And you’ve kept it to yourself the whole time?”

“I didn’t tell Fury, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said. “It wasn’t relevant.”

“Tony Stark, not recommended?”

“You were dying and being stupid,” Natasha said. “I wasn’t wrong, under the circumstances. And I’m not wrong about this; you need to tell the team.”

“Or you’ll do it for me?”

“No. You proved me wrong before. You’ll do the right thing, Tony,” she said. “I have faith in you.”

***

Bucky woke up, gradually. By degrees. Like rising out of a freezing lake, the air biting at his skin. He became aware of pain first, a dull ache, like agony wrapped in cotton and numbed to the point of drooling. And then he became aware of tubes in his arms and one up his nose. A nutrient bag, like Hydra used to use?

He forced his eyes open, but couldn’t see anything except a wash of color.

That wasn’t unusual. If he had to have any sort of surgery, he got doped to the gills to keep him from waking up mid-cut and accidentally hurting the surgical team. That had happened before.

The arm was disabled -- not unusual either. Part of its power was a kinetic generator; as long as Bucky was moving, the battery was charging. Like a car, really. Tony had talked about putting together a better system, upgrades. They hadn’t gotten around to it, yet.

“Tony?”

“Not here,” Clint said. “I’m on Winter Wonderkid watch for today. I’ll text him.”

“Ny-- gimme a minute,” Bucky said. He turned his head very slowly in the direction of Clint’s voice. “Status?”

“Badguys: caught, team: uninjured except for you, Steve: jackass and pissed off, Stark, jackass and pissed on, I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

Bucky squinted until Clint became a purple smear, rather than just a pastel shade of no-not-really. “Who--” He cut that off because he probably didn’t want to know just yet. “Where is Tony?”

“Locked in the workshop,” Clint told him, making a sucking sound, and Bucky got his eyes uncrossed enough to see that Clint was drinking coffee out of a Super Big Gulp mug. Bucky only knew it was coffee because it was Clint, but still, those mugs held like seventy-two ounces, which was just obscene. Bucky remained completely in the dark as to how Clint’s heart hadn’t exploded yet. “We had a brief team meeting, so you’re cat’s out of the proverbial bag, at least to us. Not that most of us didn’t already know it. But at least now it’s official. And then he stomped off and we haven’t seen him since. JARVIS reassures us that he hasn’t actually died down there or anything.”

“I would certainly notify medical, if I thought Mr. Stark’s life truly in danger,” JARVIS piped up, sounding hurt and offended.

“I know you would, Big Brother,” Clint said. “We don’t have to worry about Stark, that’s all I’m saying.”

“I regret that is never _entirely_ true,” JARVIS said.

Bucky pushed himself up in the bed, ignoring the myriad alarms that went off. “You wanna get me out of this shit,” Bucky said, waving a needled-and-taped up arm in Clint’s direction.

“No, but I’ll get you a nurse. And some pants. Where are you going?”

“To the workshop, if Tony’ll see me.”

Bucky didn’t want to wait until the nurse came in and detangled him from all the tubes and wires, but he also knew there would be yet another incident report if he didn’t go through the proper discharge protocols. Which didn’t mean much in and of itself, but the Avengers had a whole list of shit that they’d get docked points for, and too many points on an Avenging license was an issue. Usually that resulted in mandatory therapy sessions.

Bucky edged on the cusp of too many points almost all the time, and if he was going to have to do therapy (again) he’d rather it not be for something stupid as discharge protocol.

Clint, on the other hand, would constantly rip his own needles out and take tubes out of his -- everywhere, really -- but got queasy at the suggestion that he help a brother out. He did, however, reactivate the battery for Bucky’s arm. It wasn’t that Bucky couldn’t do it, but it was awkward to reach the back of his own arm, and he’d been known to accidentally discharge the whole thing into his nerves a few times. Not particularly dangerous, but it was painful, and then it required being _plugged in_ , like he was some sort of fucking machine.

Tony had promised to work on that, but--

Well, they’d all had a lot on their minds, hadn’t they?

Bucky took a deep breath, pulled his pants on commando, and zipped carefully. Not bothering with a shirt or shoes, he went in search of Tony. Or, more exactly, he went down to the shop, knocked a few times, and then sat on the floor, back against the frosted glass, and waited for Tony to decide to let him in.

It took a lot less long than Bucky had expected; he’d barely gotten comfortable on the floor before the door slid open. He rolled over, crawled in through the door, and then got to his feet. “Hey, baby,” Bucky said. Tony hadn’t stopped working, surrounded by hard light displays and holographic screens. Working on Bucky’s armor, it looked like. Higher impact resistance, and a new ballistic mesh.

“So, uh, the team knows,” Tony said, not looking at him. “In case you were wondering about that.”

Bucky scratched his chin absently. “Yeah, Clint told me. Are -- are you all right?”

“You’re the one who got blown up by a fuckton of Doombots -- my fault by the way -- so I don’t really think I am required to answer that.”

“You know that physical injury wasn’t what I’m asking about,” Bucky said. But he could take a few guesses, even if the first two didn’t count.

“I’d say this wasn’t the way I wanted it to come out, but I think we both know that I never wanted it to come out at all,” Tony said, and he brushed an arm over his face, back still turned to Bucky. “Spent my whole life making contingency plans so it wouldn’t happen-- and now it’s just a matter of time before the press finds out. Stark Industries stock is going to drop like a rock, probably more than it did when I said I wasn’t doing weapons for the military anymore.”

Bucky didn’t answer that. He just sat down on the bench he generally thought of as his, and watched as Tony poked and prodded. Bucky was a sniper. Patience was practically his middle name.

Tony zoomed in on the fabric composite, then said, “I’m open to whatever suggestion you’re not saying right now. In fact, you’re not saying it so hard it’s almost painful.”

“I need my full at-bat for this, honey,” Bucky said.

“Three strikes and you’re out?”

“Something like that. My suggestion for all the practical reasons that you already know is that we go ahead and seal the bond,” Bucky said. He didn’t even mention how happy that would make him, to have Tony _safe_. Finally. “I’ll sign whatever Stark Industries contracts are required, to keep the company in your hands, like it should be. God knows, I don’t have a head for business or much for tech, so I don’t want to take over, or interfere, or anything. This-- doesn’t need to ever happen again.”

Bucky took a deep breath and waited, but Tony was giving him a fair shot to speak, at least.

“It takes two consenting parties and a surgical procedure to break the bond. That’s one of the reasons divorce has been such a bitch over the centuries. Before the surgery, there was literally no way to break the bond, and a broken couple couldn’t rebond.” Doms being unwilling, or even subs being unwilling, now, still made divorce in a bonded pair rare.

“Til death us do part,” Tony said, but that was all.

“I know-- and I know you don’t feel safe, the idea of being half of a bonded pair, that doesn’t sit well with you. We’ve talked it to death, and I don’t think you can bring anything new to the table on that.”

“But you can, I’m guessing.”

“Your guesses are often better than anyone’s facts,” Bucky agreed. “I-- you’re a strong sub. You acted as Pepper’s Dom for years and no one knew the difference. There’s-- Hydra developed a chemical process, I’d get an injection just after your drop cycle, but, I would be your sub, not the other way around. Legally, of course, I’d be on record as your Dom, and you’d have that legal and biological protection. But I’d-- so you can have the peace of mind you need.”

“You what?”

“Legally, in all matters, I’ll be your Dom,” Bucky repeated, slowly. “But in reality, I’ll be your sub. So you can be safe. You’re always safe with me, Tony, but I know you don’t feel like that, so I want to help. Sir.”

***

“What-- what do you get out of it?” Tony demanded more than asked. That sounded about eight flavors of fucked up to him, and he had weird things with his morning coffee, but--

“I get you,” Bucky said. “A you who is safe and happy and who feels better.”

“I mean, I’ve heard about compromise, that’s a thing, right,” Tony said, tapping his fingers idly against his breastbone. “Even if I’m not very good at it. But this seems a lot to give up on your side of things, to get me. I’m not--”

Bucky scoffed. “Trust me enough to know what I want, even if you don’t know what you want.”

Tony stared. He had the disconcerting sensation of wondering if this was what it had been like for his father, who’d constantly moved the goalposts so that Tony couldn’t ever possibly succeed. He opened his mouth a few times, searching. Somewhere, in a language with almost two hundred thousand words, a myriad of meanings for many of them, there had to be words to express exactly how Tony was feeling.

Somehow.

“You’re the one who didn’t want me on drop-control drugs,” Tony pointed out. Although he wasn’t entirely sure why he was arguing against something Bucky was offering. Maybe he was just a hopeless debater, unable to pick a side because he couldn’t help but poke holes in an argument, no matter what it was.

His right shoulder lifted in Bucky’s equivalent of a shrug. It didn’t seem to matter anymore how light the arm was, or how much strength Bucky had in it; his shrug was always lopsided. “Healing factor,” he said, “displaces a lot of risk. It ain’t like I’m gonna get cancer, or have _heart failure._ ”

Tony’s fingers on his sternum stilled. That was a risk, really. Even after all the reconstructive surgery he’d had, his heart was weaker than it had been at one time. “Still, it seems that if drugs were the option, we should have just stuck with the ones I was already on.”

“Look, we can just try it this way, right?” Bucky asked, and his face and voice were both imploring, gently cajoling. “If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work for us, there’s… this isn’t working, what we’re doing now. So we need to find a new, better solution.”

It was working, something deep inside Tony protested. It _had been_ working. For a genius, Tony was often pretty stupid. Wile E. Coyote levels of stupid. “We can’t factor in all the variables for day-to-day operations,” Tony said. “You do this, and then when something else goes wrong, and it’s me, sugarplum. You’re in a relationship with me, I don’t think things are ever going to be all right again.”

“You invent a time machine, an’ I’mma go back to the eighties and beat the tar out of your father,” Bucky said, disgusted. “You’re not a bother, you’re not the worst thing that ever happened. I wish you’d stop that.”

Tony bit his lip. It was the problem, wasn’t it? Howard in his head. Howard that he constantly fought with, trying to prove something to a dead man who wouldn’t ever admit that he was proud of Tony.

Tony had been born broken, as far as Howard was concerned. Howard, who Tony carried around with like some evil monkey on his back, constantly berating, constantly telling Tony that he didn’t measure up. And it didn’t matter, objectively, if Tony knew that Howard was _wrong_ , if Tony and the entire rest of the planet stood up as one and shouted that Tony was _enough_. It would never drown him out.

“It you would excuse me, sir, for intruding, but I might have a suggestion,” JARVIS announced from one of his speakers.

“I’m all ears,” Tony said, because there was compromise and then there was crushing the life and spirit out of his Dom, and Bucky shouldn’t have to submit like that because Tony was broken. Tony didn’t want, in any way, to be like Hydra. No matter what. If it had to go that way, if Tony couldn’t find some way to fix himself, then he was going to let Bucky go.

_Even if Bucky doesn’t want to go? How is that not being like Hydra, deciding that you know him and what’s best for him better than he does._

“Why does life have to be so complicated?” Tony wondered, just as JARVIS said--

“Sir, there’s a project you put aside, if I might remind you-- the BARF system,” JARVIS said. “Which might allow you to safely experiment with a different dynamic before you put your physical bodies at risk.”

“What’s he talkin’ about?”

Tony brightened at the idea. “Come on, let’s go yell at my dad,” he invited.

***

“It’s a pair of sunglasses,” Bucky said, staring down at it.

“Well, tech-- no, you know what, nevermind,” Tony said. “Basically, the system is an implant, installed on a pair of glasses. It connects with your hippocampus, allowing you to find and work through traumatic memories and alter it. Your brain is really easy to fool, and if you think you experienced a thing, your brain really can’t tell the difference. Even if you know what happened, even if you see it happening, your brain still says ‘ok, so I did actually win that argument.’”

“Really? What-- what do you do with it?”

“Through the altered projection, the user -- that would be you in this case -- is able to successfully re-experience and hopefully work through overcoming traumatic experiences.”

“Uh, well, domming you isn’t traumatic,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, well, that’s why I’ll be doing some alterations to the program,” Tony said. “Like I said, brain is really easy to fool.”

“So, we’re gonna, what-- _pretend_ to have sex?”

“Well, to quote Bill Clinton, that really depends on what your definition of sex is,” Tony said, and he was grinning, so that was okay.

Bucky shook his head. The future. Still no flying cars, but some stuff was weird as hell. “I-- does it mess with your brain?” His brainwashing -- a misnomer, Tony had said one time, since washing wasn’t really what was going on there at all -- had been undone, but there were still scars there. Scars that itched sometimes and pulled unexpectedly, and that he couldn’t get to, or see.

“Not in the way that you’re worried about, snowflake,” Tony said. He tossed the pair of glasses on his workbench. “It’s an altered reality-- you will see and feel everything that you’d see and feel if we were having a session in the real world. Your body will react in the same way-- elevated heart rate, pupil response, dopamine rush. Consider it more like a very intense dream. When we wake up, we’ll know, logically, that we were dreaming, but it will still be very, very real. Emotionally. To our brains, which as I’ve said before, are kinda dumb.”

“What-- just saying, if someone killed someone else, while wearing that thing?”

“It’s a theory, because we’ve never tested that in a lab situation,” Tony said, biting his lip. “Theoretically, nothing-- the same way if you strangle Steve in your dreams, which I might add, i have done multiple times and it has absolutely no affect on him, more’s the pity. Even in a dream, when you think you’re going to die, you don’t. Your body throws you out of the dreaming state. Which, that’s what happens here. You’ll have the equivalent of a safe word-- But we haven’t tested it, so I totally don’t recommend trying to strangle me. Or yourself.”

“It worries me that it’s the first thing you think,” Bucky said.

“Well, you know, for historical data runs, the number of people who’ve tried to strangle me is statistically significant. I’m pretty sure it’s a character flaw on my part. I have this evolutionary defect that makes my throat look very tempting.”

“I’ll say,” Bucky said, putting his arms around Tony and nuzzling at his neck. “It’s delightful.”

 “So, that’s how it works,” Tony said, “and if you’re comfortable with it--”

“We can give this a try, with the parameters set up, like I took th’ drug,” Bucky said.

“That’s it exactly,” Tony said, beaming. “That way, we can test to see if it works as a solution, emotionally, before putting anything into play that can’t be easily fixed.”

“If this is emotionally crappy, won’t it still be broken?”

“Controlling the variables, my dear,” Tony said. “That’s part of the scientific method. I think-- I think it will work.”

“All right,” Bucky said. “I trust you. I trust your tech.”

Tony did some more puttering, bringing up program maps and sliding things around, while JARVIS talked Bucky through the set up of two memory-cradles. High sided beds so they wouldn’t fall out, and yet wouldn’t be contained.

“For the purposes of experimentation, it is best at this point if you and Mr. Stark do not share a bed,” JARVIS explained. “Accidentally injuring each other is still an injury.”

“And you’re very careful of him, I know,” Bucky said. “Are you going to be… well, watching?”

“I will, in fact, manipulate the program, to watch for trauma inducing events,” JARVIS said, primly. “But I will never release that data, the same way I keep a recording of all Tower security feeds. I have Mr. Stark’s best interests in mind, of course, but I will protect everyone under this roof to the best of my abilities, sir.”

“I know,” Bucky said. There was still that frisson of unease, knowing that JARVIS was watching. Weird, how that worked; security film was hackable, people released revenge porn onto the internet all the time. Everything a person did or said was ultimately recorded somewhere, but the fact that JARVIS both watched, understood what he was watching, and had some sort of opinion about it--

“I’m not very much interested in human sexuality, except on a theoretical level,” JARVIS said. “I find fleshy interactions interesting, but ultimately quite messy.”

Bucky laughed. “Well, they are,” he agreed.

“In that interest, you’ll find towels and sanitizer in the leftmost cabinet there.”

Bucky shook his head, went to fetch the required supplies. By the time he had everything set up to JARVIS’s aesthetics, Tony was done with the programming.

“To be comfortable, as well as not getting bodily fluid in unpleasant places--”

“You mean, we’ll still come? If, you know--”

“Probably? Again, I haven’t tested it, but with the dream theory, nightly emissions isn’t exactly new.”

“Wet dreams, great,” Bucky said, feeling his neck heat.

“Yep,” Tony said. He rubbed his hands together briefly, glanced at Bucky. “Did, uh… did you want to try this out, now? Or, we can wait--”

Bucky swallowed hard. “What’s the schedule look like, J?”

“You and Mr. Stark are cleared from team activities for at least another sixteen hours, sir,” JARVIS told them. “I will lock down the workshop on a privacy 1 level. Not to be interrupted, unless there is a planetary wide crises. Other Avengers and teams have been put on notice.”

No repeat of last time.

Bucky took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

***

Tony trusted his tech. More than he trusted most people, some days.

Decidedly more than he trusted himself. “Go on, lay down, I’ll get you hooked up.”

Hooked up wasn’t terribly difficult; a headpiece that projected images directly into the optic nerves, a lead that affixed to the base of the skull that introduced pulses of energy into the spine, simulating sensation. JARVIS could track the rest of the vitals, so there was no need for them to be covered in tubes and wires.

Tony reached over to adjust the projector and Bucky’s hand came up to touch his face. “Whatever happens,” Bucky said. “Don’t forget that I love you.”

Tony turned his face into Bucky’s palm and kissed his fingers. “Honestly, I sometimes think you were dropped on your head as a child. No one goes through this much trouble, especially not for me.”

“Especially for you,” Bucky insisted. He drew his hand down Tony’s chest. “Now, come on… let’s give this a whirl.”

Tony laughed, light and forced, but he copied Bucky’s touch, let his fingers graze down that bare skin, and then, because it was Tony, and they might as well start the race several steps ahead, he continued down, until his fingertips lightly brushed against Bucky’s cock. It twitched behind the thin fabric of Bucky’s underwear, then swelled, like it was seeking Tony out.

Bucky made a soft, urgent noise and pushed into the touch, utterly unselfconscious, his mouth plush and red as he bit down on his lower lip.

Because that had been amazingly responsive, and the goal was to get a response, some sort of response, Tony did it again. Unlike any Dom Tony had ever met, Bucky didn’t make demands of him, just lay there and let Tony touch him, tease him.

 _You’re a fool if you let this one go_ , he told himself. Which never, he knew, stopped himself from being a fool. But Bucky was holding on with both hands, and one of them was the hand that Tony had made for him. I’m not irreparably broken. I can get better, I can fix this.

Tony was a futurist. He worshiped it, waited for it, knelt at its feet. Imagined it in all its shining glory. Worked for it. The future.

Maybe… maybe, he could have a future.

The BARF was made to fix things, mental issues, to put old memories to rest. Maybe… maybe it could do what he needed it to do. So that he could have a future. They could have a future.

_Together._

Maybe some of that seeped through his skin, deposited his thoughts directly into Bucky’s mind, because the little worried wrunkle in the middle of his forehead smoothed out. “It’s gonna be okay, baby,” Bucky said. “We’re gonna make it work.”

Tony nodded, unable to speak around the lump in his throat. He gave Bucky one last, teasing caress before heading to his side of the room, hooking into the BARF system. He stripped down to his shorts, laid down, and hooked in.

“Paris, really?” was the first thing out of his mouth when the system went live.

Bucky made a soft noise, and Tony had to look around for him. His inner ear went crazy for a moment, before he regained some equilibrium.

He was kneeling, perfect and graceful, arranged just so on a cushion, collar around his neck in Tony’s colors.

Tony was getting older, he no longer went from zero to sixty in seconds; except apparently sometimes he did. It wasn’t a rev up from the BARF either -- he hadn’t added those settings. It was only supposed to be who they were and what they needed.

Bucky didn’t answer the obvious call for a smart ass remark, and Tony stopped gawping at the man long enough to actually look at him.

Bucky was shivering minutely, each tremor going from his fingertips and into his spine in little ripples, and each one accompanied by a suck of air.

From everything Tony had heard, before Bucky had accidentally knocked him down into the sub basement (ha, pun!), the Winter Soldier had been the perfect sub.

Completely, softly compliant, without a speck of fight in him. The perfect sub, completely dominated, utterly broken.

Utterly beautiful, Tony thought, still watching. “Look how lovely you are,” he said, instinctively, and the shivering eased. Bucky was so far down, already, that just the praise pushed him into an easier resting state.

“Hey there, gorgeous, look up at me, would you?” Tony asked him, and Bucky moved without thought, without pause, tilted his head and gazed at Tony adoringly. His eyes were clear and beautiful and lust-shot already. Tony touched Bucky’s face, tipped his chin even further to look, to admire the color of his collar against Bucky’s chin.

“Yes, sir,” Bucky said, and his eyes didn’t so much as flicker, he barely blinked, didn’t look down, or away, or even shift his gaze. He looked at Tony like Tony was the sun and it burned, and he still couldn’t look away.

“I know you’re gonna be so good for me,” Tony said.

Bucky nodded, his head moving slightly in Tony’s grasp. “Yes, sir.”

Tony squeezed his fingers, until the pads were disappearing into the skin on Bucky’s face, little white bloodless marks that rushed red when he let go. “Great,” Tony said. “So, here’s what I was thinking. You’re gonna work yourself open for me, and then I’m going to find a toy, and we’re going to put that up in there. A remote controlled one. And I’m going to tease you while you sit still and let me. And if you’re very, very good, I’ll let you blow me.” He let the threat hang here for a bit, how things would go if Bucky was not very, very good.

Tony knew that Bucky was strong, that he could break Tony in half with one hand -- assuming that hand didn’t have a gauntlet attached to it. Admittedly, he knew Bucky could also be held down, by the suit, by magnetic cuffs, and in the BARF system, he could be held down because Tony _wanted_ him that way.

But what Tony wanted to see, what he really needed to know, was if Bucky would and _could_ , hold himself down.

Bucky nodded. He slanted one quick glance up at Tony’s face, then turned, facing away from the bed -- there was a bed? Tony glanced around the fake room set up again, and not only was there a bed, but also a full length mirror. Bucky had a vivid imagination. It conjured a vaguely throne-like chair to sit in while he watched as Bucky turned, spread his knees, and presented.

Bucky went down, his forehead practically resting on the floor, every muscle in his body going pliant and easy. He reached back between splayed thighs and teased at his own ass, rubbing his balls, circling his hole.

Tony lounged in the chair as if he were an idle king on the throne, one leg hooked over the arm of the chair. He almost knocked the little bottle of lube over that was on the end table. “You do think of everything,” he said. “Here, catch.” He tossed the bottle at Bucky, who snapped upright, snagged the bottle out of midair and sank back into submission with barely a breath.

Tony inhaled, a breath so deep it seemed to spread to every corner of his body. “Jesus, you are something else,” he told Bucky. There was probably something wrong with him that Bucky’s competency -- his sheer prowess -- was more of a turn on than anything else.

“Thank you, sir,” Bucky said. He paused, then added, “am I allowed to use it?”

“Good catch,” Tony praised. “Physically and otherwise. You’re allowed.”

Bucky got back to work, keeping his ass in the air, shamelessly teasing himself, deliberately teasing Tony, his hand working, tugging at the rim, circling. His hips rocked almost helplessly.

“You don’t have to keep quiet, honey, if it feels good,” Tony said. He always liked listening to the sounds that Bucky made, even when he was kneeling at Bucky’s feet, he wanted to hear those sounds, to know he caused those things. To know how much Bucky wanted.

Time to see if he could push Bucky up to needing it. Desperately needing, longing for it, begging for it.

Tony shivered and everything below his navel clenched up, his dick twitching hard in his pants.

Tony let it go on for longer than strictly necessary -- Bucky was fucking himself with two fingers, hole loose and pliant -- before getting to his feet. He knew his own fingers would be cramping, that he’d be seeking release if he was doing for himself.

Bucky seemed relaxed, however, as Tony circled him. Almost too relaxed. Time to turn it up a notch. Tony conjured his own additions to the program, although his genius brain knew he could just command the object to appear, the logical core of him still wanted to treat it as normal. Under the bed was a box of toys.

“This one should do nicely,” Tony said. He grabbed it, and the remote. “Spread your cheeks for me.”

Bucky, eyes a little glazed from self-stimulating, complied. He leaned forward, his spine a lovely line, and grabbed one cheek in each hand, spreading. The muscles around his sphincter jumped and Tony couldn’t resist. He rubbed his thumb gently over that twitching muscle, listening to Bucky’s breath catch.

Lubed up the toy, deceptively simple, and slowly pushed it in. He tapped the base a few times, then worked it in and out of Bucky’s ass, getting a feel for it. Bucky twitched, moaned, but kept his position.

“Does that feel good, honey?” Tony wondered, shifting the angle just a little until the cadence of Bucky’s breathing sped.

“Yes, sir,” Bucky said. He pushed his hips back, encouraging more.

Tony smacked one ass cheek, a firm slap that cracked against skin. “I didn’t say you could move.”

Bucky went wide eyed, then gasped, lowering his gaze to the floor. “Sorry, sir,” he said.

“Are you?”

“I don’t wish to displease you,” Bucky said, and he sounded humble, apologetic, his voice shaking with nerves.

Tony never would have managed that, not without some severe repercussions first, and even then, it was Tony’s nature to fight, to smart off when he couldn’t fight. Even when he didn’t want to, he seemed to have been built to be contrary.

Bucky, by contrast, was sweet and obedient.

Is this, Tony wondered, what Bucky wanted? Someone who just sank into it, who gave up, who-- no, Bucky would have said, wouldn’t he?

He didn’t want to change Tony, he wanted Tony just the way he was.

Maybe a little less contrary when it was bad for him.

“Oh, you’ll please me, all right,” Tony said, because he was driving, and even if there was an argument going on in his head, he was pretty damn good at multitasking. Also, he was interested to see if concept worked as well in reality.

He moved away until he was back at the chair, lounging on it, watching Bucky, the toy in his ass, trying not to move. Barely enough to breathe, his thighs and ass clenching. Squeezing.

Tony pushed the button on the remote and Bucky gasped, fingers biting into his own skin in shock as he struggled to keep still. The toy expanded, the somewhat bulbous end swelling, for a delicious feeling of fullness, while not overly stretching the rim.

The programming was good, Bucky was barely squirming, but he wasn’t in pain, the toy didn’t have unexpected edges and didn’t catch or pull. Nice to be able to test something in utter safety, for a change.

“How’s that?” Tony asked.

“God, so-- big,” Bucky managed to gasp.

“Sir,” Tony chided, and then thumbed another button. The toy buzzed fitfully and Bucky clenched up tight enough that Tony’s stomach twisted delightfully, watching. A low moan came out of Bucky’s throat.

“Sir--” Bucky squeaked, and Tony wasn’t sure if it was an apology or an exclamation.

“Nice, isn’t it?”

Bucky squeaked again, then nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“You will tell me if it’s actually painful,” Tony told him. “The toy isn’t to cause you pain. It’s to keep you eager for me.”

“Yes--ah! Yes sir.”

Tony flicked the remote a few times, watching carefully as the strength of the vibrations changed, the frequency. Watching as Bucky squeezed down on the toy, as sweat beaded along his skin, as his fingers tightened.

Finally, he settled on an almost random pattern of heavy vibration that had Bucky whining eagerly.

“All right, darling,” Tony said. “I want you to crawl over here, and kneel on this cushion for me. Face me, I want to see you.”

Bucky moaned, but did as he was told, dropping to his hands and knees. Despite the erratic vibrations in his ass, it didn’t take him long to get over to Tony’s side.

“Good, that’s very good,” Tony crooned and Bucky tipped his face up to give Tony a sweet, submissive smile. He leaned down and kissed Bucky’s pouty lower lip. “But I think we want a little more. Why don’t you make a circuit of the room. Crawling. I want to see how lovely you are.”

Bucky nodded, and went around the room, keeping his back a gorgeous arc, and his head down obediently. Every time he slowed, or whimpered at the vibrations, and how the plug was shifting in his ass, Tony kept a mental count. Six, by the time he was back in place.

“Not quite as nice as I would have liked,” Tony said, and Bucky made a soft, sad noise. “Turn around, put your forehead on the floor.”

Bucky presented, his ass quivering and clenching around the toy, dick hard and leaking under the curve of his belly.

“So lovely,” Tony said, running a thumb around that stretched rim, teasing. Tony reached for another one of his toys and tools, a slender crop with a tagged leather end. He laid it across Bucky’s mouth, showing it to him.

“Six strokes, just to start,” Tony told him, and then delivered them, one, two, three, alternating sides, timing each lash to go just before the vibrator thrummed, so pain, and then pleasure, until Bucky’s ass was coming up to meet the strokes almost eagerly.

“Thank you, sir,” Bucky said, when they were done. The lines were brilliant red, almost hot to look at, across his ass cheeks. “Another?”

“Do you need another?”

“I need whatever you think I need, sir,” Bucky said, but his ass was still up, begging, and his head was still down, and his cock was leaking precome.

Tony gave him another, and then another. Each slash of the crop made a smart spank against Bucky’s skin, each vibration was accompanied by a low, soft moan.

By the time Tony could no longer see the individual marks, and Bucky’s whole ass was red and raw, Bucky’s knuckles were white, hands clenched up, and his cheek was pressed against the floor, his mouth open, whining continuously.

“All right, that’s enough,” Tony said. “Come here, let me look at your face.”

Bucky had to take a moment to gather himself up, and he turned slow. His eyes were huge, wet, luminous, the pupils so lust shot that he could barely see the blue around them.

“Can you sit back on your heels for me?”

Bucky’s mouth twitched, and he made a few hissing sounds as he settled, tender skin of his ass resting against his calves.

It would fade soon enough; Bucky’s healing wasn’t quite instantaneous, but it was pretty damn good, nonetheless. 

Tony flicked the remote again, changing the tempo, the pressure, and Bucky’s mouth quivered, and that quiver went down his body in a beautiful ripple until his cock bobbed lightly against his belly, as if trying to get Tony’s attention.

“Aw, are you horny?” Tony wondered, and Bucky nodded, a little more frantic and fervent than he needed to. Tony walked all the way around his sub, looking at the tightness in his buttocks, the way his toes were curled and clenching. The way he was so hard, and trying to be still.

“Can you be quiet, love,” Tony wondered. “So quiet. Take what I want to give you?”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky promised. That was good, and Tony rewarded that with a kiss, pulling back every time Bucky tried to deepen it or lean into it. There was only a soft huff of air when Tony drew all the way back and Bucky’s eyes were wide and limpid, his lip puffy.

Tony reached out, stroked Bucky’s cock, light and easy. Once, twice, and a third. Bucky wasn’t quite pushing into it, but he was obviously twitchy. Tony thumbed the remote again and then stroked a little harder, eliciting a desperate, breathy moan.

“Ah-ah, back on the floor,” Tony said.

As he suspected, some of the redness had already faded out, but it didn’t matter. Tony brought Bucky’s skin back up to flaming pink in a matter of minutes. When Tony brought him to kneeling again, Bucky was weeping, tears flitted on his lashes before running down his cheeks. Utterly silent. Utterly gorgeous.

Completely subservient. When Tony tipped Bucky’s chin to gaze into his eyes, Bucky was completely adoring.

“You are so beautiful,” Tony told him. “Are you ready for your reward?”

Bucky’s gaze flickered lightly from Tony’s mouth, and then back up to his eyes. He nodded, once.

“And you’re gonna get it, honey,” Tony told him. He let Bucky sink back down onto his sore ass, flicking the remote button again until it was thrumming hard and heavy, and Bucky was breathing hard, through his nose, his eyes wide and getting wider. “Wondering how much more you can take, before you go off, untouched? Yeah, me too.” He spread his feet a little, unzipped, and pushed his pants down around his thighs. “Why don’t you blow me, and then we’ll figure that out.”

Bucky nodded again, his tongue sliding out to wet his bottom lip as he reached for Tony.

“Keep your arms behind your back, I’ll make sure you don’t overbalance,” Tony told him. He slid his fingers on either side of Bucky’s face, raking into his hair, thumbs teasing at Bucky’s ears, where Tony knew were damn sensitive. “Open up, honey.”

The first few thrusts into the warm welcome of Bucky’s mouth were divine, heavenly. Slow and sensual, he pushed past Bucky’s lips and into that sweet, slick wetness.

Bucky’s tongue writhed, pushing against the invading cock, a frisson of sensation going right up Tony’s thighs and into his spine. As he slid in, Tony could feel the faintest buzz of the plug as it vibrated up Bucky’s bones, just the edge of a tease.

Tony reached down with one hand, flicked Bucky’s perfect nipple, ran the edge of his fingernail over it. Bucky arched into it, hands at the small of his back, cock ramrod straight and begging for attention. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you? I remember.” Tony tugged the other nipple, pinched it, listened to Bucky’s breathing speed, the puffs of air against Tony’s groin as Bucky let his mouth get fucked, nice and slow.

He teased and tortured Bucky’s sensitive nipples, those bolts of pain mixed with pleasure that Tony himself always adored. Bucky’s eyes opened and shut, tears squeezed at the corners as he tried to keep his breathing steady and couldn’t. The way his tongue wriggled against Tony’s cock, desperate for air, desperate for _more_.

 Tony stared down into Bucky’s lovely face, the way his lips were stretched around Tony’s dick, the way his eyes kept opening to watch, and kept closing in pleasure. He twisted his spine with desire, thrusting his chest out, his hips moving urgently. Arms held behind his back as Tony teased and tickled and caressed and pinched those little pebbled bits of flesh.

Bucky squeaked, his jaw twisting, more sensation whipping up Tony’s cock, pressure that built in the small of his back, the base of his spine.

Greed swallowed Tony whole, wanting to claim this man, wanting to mark him, shape him, change him. _Mine, mine, mine,_ his brain cried out. _You’re mine, right now._

Bucky’s head moved, up and down, swallowing, the muscles in his cheeks tensing. His eyes were dark with need, with some internal storm. He was fucking gorgeous. “There you go, baby, you just let me fuck your mouth.”

Bucky’s shoulders tensed, the buzzing of the vibrator got louder, more steady against the length of Tony’s cock. A tender judder, especially when Bucky gently, ever so carefully, let his teeth scrape against Tony’s shaft.

Everything in Tony’s head splintered into shards of glass, that genius brain of his finally shut up as he let himself get lost in the pull and flex of Bucky’s body. Drowned himself in those steel grey eyes. Thrust into Bucky’s mouth until Bucky’s face was purple, he was spluttering for air, and the pulled back, letting him gasp and moan. There was no more pretty foreplay or teasing. No more seductive looks. Just animal need, animal greed. Tony rutted at Bucky mindlessly, eager and magnificent.

Bucky took it. He didn’t have to, his hands weren’t held, he wasn’t bolted down or belted in. He took it because he wanted to, because he wanted to please Tony, wanted to give Tony everything that was his, wanted to give all of himself.

He arched his hips, practically going onto his toes as all the pressure inside him built, built, and then flooded open. His cock jerked, and then spilled, a rush of heat and pleasure. “Bucky--”

Bucky swallowed it, licked it off his lips, licked it off the head of Tony’s dripping cock, took all of it and then sat back on his heels like he was waiting for more.

“There you go, darling,” Tony said, brushing his thumb over Bucky’s lip, then sampling the last droplets of his own come. “So perfect for me, so lovely.” Bucky looked a little drunk on it, swaying gently, making soft, urgent noises every time the vibrator shuddering inside him.

Tony dropped down to his knees. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

Bucky moved, the joints in his arms crackling and popping from holding his position as long as he did. “Jus’ your hand, it’s enough, please, sir.”

Tony curled his arm around Bucky’s shoulder and held him while he stroked Bucky off, slow and firm and sweet, and when Bucky shuddered and came a few moments later, he petted and cuddled him through the aftershocks.

“I was good?” Bucky looked up after a long moment, eyes wide and soft.

“You were magnificent.”

Tony kinda hated that it was over.

Well, at least for now.


End file.
